


Come on, come out, come here, come here

by Fake_Brit



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon - sort of, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 21:16:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2596664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fake_Brit/pseuds/Fake_Brit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> "A blue flame. It seems fitting: finding out the supposed love of your life while said love is facing a guilt crisis over a shooting. So romantic." </i><br/>Or, the Soulmate AU that's been overdone and unasked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come on, come out, come here, come here

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from New York by Snow Patrol. Let me warn you, this is the cheesiest thing that has ever been written and Bellamy and Clarke are totally OOC.

Her sixteenth birthday has just passed when her mum mentions the Soulmate Business in detail. 

(They did attend a class where Teachers explained what-the-heck-it-involved, though. And Finn Collins kept winking at her as if to say, _I ain’t needin’ any lecture, I know it’s you baby_ and shit. Which, by the way, was annoying as hell)

Clarke thinks she is going to want the floor to swallow her whole. Her mother sits on the sofa so that she and her daughter are facing each other and clears her throat.

“As you know,” Abby says, voice even, eyes gleaming a little, “Having a Soulmate is a privilege not all of us are allowed to have, and, as such, those who are lucky enough to find one should do everything in their power to keep their happiness safe,”

At that Clarke rolls her eyes. It looks like her mum has swallowed the breauchure they’ve been given in class.

Abby talks about other stuff, too and, quoting her very words, _you’re lucky your father is at work right now._

It’s probably the only thing that her mum told her today she agrees with, It’d have been awkward as fuck to discuss sex and babies and even just guys with Jake Griffin being his only daughter.

(Especially since she knows both of her parents are hoping ferociously it’ll be Wells ever since they were toddlels in diapers)

(And her dad is terrible at keeping it a secret)

“You need to be careful, Clarke,” Abby’s tone loses its playfulness, now, and leans toward her Doctor Tone. Graveness. Alarm. “Until your mark shows do not get attached to any boy. It will only bring you suffering, my girl,” her mum gives her a sad smile – as if this advice was something Abigail Griffin has gone through herself, something that still had effect on her -and goes back to her paperwork.

(Clarke’ll admit only much, much later that, once she’s alone on the couch, she begins to wonder whether her parents’ marriage is as happy as everyone deems it to be)

-:-

At seventeen some of her classmates – who are not really friends, not like Wells is, even if they do want her attention – start whispering, in quick phrases and hushed tones and wishful glances, about what dating is supposed to be like.

It’s not that fooling around until your mark appears is considered a crime or something like that, they say.

_ It isn’t,  _ she agrees. _But they all have heard what happens when someone does fools around, however lightheartedly, and the mark appears.It ends badly._

_ Despair. Rage. Heartbreak. Utter chaos.  _ That’s what it causes.

(And soul crashing pain which, they say, only your Soulmate will find a way to heal)

In the last year she’s heard this over and over again, from thousand different voices, in thousand different tones and intonations.

Each time, she’s whispered in her head, quietly but firmly, _I don’t believe this._ It can’t be real, for God’s sake. 

She thinks of her mother, whose happiness looks too bright, too rewarding. 

At seventeen, Clarke hopes her mark will never appear.

-:-

At seventeen-and-something her dad – her d a d, her hero – gets floated and her world goes to hell.

It’s dark. The cell is suffocating and so is her mind.

Her body is both too big and too fucking small for what she’s feeling.

In a way, she’s sort of amazed by the fact she hasn’t crumbled on herself yet.

She’d spare her mum shame if she did. (But she’d also keep giving her pain and it’s a decision she doesn’t have enough strenght to make)

She’s pissed and sad and angry and lonely and… and.

A n d she waits. Waits for Death because she’s exhausted and she shouldn’t be at sevenfuckingteen.

She waits for Death because she has nobody left.

Wells endend up being a traitor. _Great Soulmate you wanted me to have, dad,_ thanks a lot.

(Clarke wishes her mark had appeared by now, because someone’d understand her. They’d stop the heaviness and ease the vulnerability that have settled on her shoulders)

-:-

At seventeen-and-something she’s sent to Earth.

Her heart is still heavy, her shoulders still feel like they’re about to break, and yet, somehow, Clarke hopes.

(Although her hope is still clothed in bitterness)

-:-

Wells dies all too soon and guilt adds itself on her heavy shoulders.

Death is a comarade, now.

Everything gets grey, grey and uncertain and scary.

Bellamy’s cockiness gets on her nerves. (But she welcomes it, however secretly)

He calls her Princess and smiles sarcastically. If only he knew how heavy it is, how scared it makes her. ( _How angry. So much anger she feels like exploding and burning the ground she stands on)_

She slowly settles in the routine of picking up fights with him and relying on Finn for back up.

He’s an optimist and she needs optimism.

She’s gone through darkness already and she hasn’t really gotten out of that tunnel; light feeds whatever little hope she has and she suspects that without it she wouldn’t be able to carry on.

(“Whatever the hell we want!” still echoes through her mind sometimes.She shakes her head, then. _He’s dark, dark dark and too real._ She’s had enough bitter reality for a lifetime)

She sleeps with Finn because she’s finally out of strenght to carry the weight of everything – leading people who won’t listen to her, her loneliness, her guilt, her nostalgia for someone who turned out to be the one person who had caused her world to crumble around her – and she just feels like her bones might crack in half.

His kisses are soothing, feather-like. His hands explore her as if they were shaking her awake.

She feels like she has found a way to glue herself back together. _Finally._

_.  _

_.  _

_. _

_ (She hasn’t) _

-:-

She wakes up, her left temple throbbing as if hell were exploding right there.

She curses loud enough to wake up half the camp.

“Goddammit. Why now, you fuckers? Why? _W h y?_ ”

She storms out of her tent, furywaawing off her frame.

This headache can only mean one thing. _That_ one thing she didn’t want to happen. That one thing that is gonna make everything complicated as fuck. (It already is, she thinks, but this is gonna make it fucking hell.)

There’s a blue flame on her left temple. It’s small, delicate, femine.

“Are we sure it’s mine?” She mutters, smiling ironically.

She shakes her worry off. No one’s found out and yelled, “Hey, that’s my mark, too! Let’s go make babies to raise in this hellhole!”

-:-

Her stomach is queasy.Must be the freaking nuts, her voice of reason pipes up darkly.

Bellamy is not looking too great, either. He’s mumbling and whipering and just sounds insane. It’s not her place to judge, though. She’s probably spilling out her guts and insanity, too.

He’s sitting against a tree, resembling a delirious man and rambling about being a monster. (She wants to yell at him that he isn’t till her throat becomes raw)

His breath quickens as he pleads, eyes wide, voice frantic.

She notices it, then. Hidden between brown curls, lays his mark

A blue flame. It seems fitting: finding out the supposed love of your life while said love is facing a guilt crisis over a shooting. So romantic.

“You may be a total ass half of the time,” she whispers, voice cracking because talking is still an effort. Damn nuts. Damn. Damn. 

It cracks even as she thinks what to say next. It’s big, and as soon as they are out in the air, she realises that the words aren’t the ones she’d thought of. “But I need you,” it scares her how much truth that statement contains.

(She needs him. Him. Him and his utter truth and depth. Him and the wildness he makes her feel)

-:-

_ The first time Bellamy kisses her – with his right mind, of course – she feels like a firework going off, like fire’s travelling through her body.  _

_ “I need you, too,” is a caress on her neck, lost in the hunger that mumbles greedly in her stomach. (Don’t let go, please, I beg you) _

_ She pulls apart from him just because the need to breath is making her head pound like a drum. _

_ His tongue lingers on her lower lip touching, touching and touching. Fire follows, of course. _

_ Hours later, he grins at her over the campfire. It’s wide and it makes her heart roar like a lion. He mouthes, “Love you,” his lips still curled. _

_ She nods as she grins back just as widely. _

_ (She finally feels whole. And it’s all thanks to him) _

 

 

 

 

__

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So did you guys enjoy? Let me know - even if this gave you toothache. I'll pay your bills.


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